


B-Sides & C-Cuts

by bitter_leaf



Category: One Direction (Band), Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Blink and you’ll miss it appearance by the Toronto Maple Leafs, Canon Universe, Christmas Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ice Skating, M/M, Miscommunication, Oblivious Niall, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21537508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitter_leaf/pseuds/bitter_leaf
Summary: It’s a long shot, Niall thinks as his thumb hovers over the keypad. Surely Shawn is living it up in LA this time of year, spending time in the sun, having the run of the city in the way only a cashed-up young superstar can. Taking a deep breath, Niall pulls his other hand out of where it’s wedged under the pillow and grabs his phone in both hands.Hey man,Niall types out,I’m in Toronto tomorrow, my flight got re-routed. You around?__Niall’s stuck in Toronto the day before Christmas Eve. Shawn plans to make the most of it.
Relationships: Niall Horan/Shawn Mendes
Comments: 29
Kudos: 123
Collections: 1D Christmas Fest





	B-Sides & C-Cuts

**Author's Note:**

> This came about because I wanted to write some Shiall and Christmas fluff seemed like the perfect excuse. Also hockey.
> 
> Thanks to the lovely Rebecca for her beta and love of all things Shiall xx

  


Niall’s already dreaming of his own bed in Mullingar as he rolls over in the over-starched hotel bedding and switches off the light. It’s three days before Christmas.

While it wasn’t ideal, he wasn’t surprised when Emma called to let him know his flight home had been cancelled. Some sort of cold front had engulfed the better part of the East Coast for weeks now and Boston was blanketed in snow, a blizzard making it impossible for planes to land.

Emma had been thoroughly apologetic, not that it was her fault, and he’d kept his voice steady as she told him that she’d had to settle for an alternate flight with a huge layover. He’d hid his disappointment; at least he’d be home in time for Christmas.

Now, Niall can barely keep his eyes open as he stares blearily at the Whatsapp conversation on his phone. The bedspread scratches at his skin but he knows as soon as he closes his eyes, he’ll be out like a light. What can he say – it’s been a busy couple of weeks. A 24-hour layover in Toronto in December will be hell, unless–

It’s a long shot, Niall thinks as his thumb hovers over the keypad. Surely Shawn is living it up in LA this time of year, spending time in the sun, having the run of the city in the way only a cashed-up young superstar can. It’s been a little more than a month since they’ve spoken and after that long it always feels a bit awkward to make the first move.

Taking a deep breath, Niall pulls his other hand out of where it’s wedged under the pillow and grabs his phone in both hands.

 _Hey man,_ Niall types out _, I’m in Toronto tomorrow, my flight got re-routed. You around?_

The reply comes almost straight away.

 _Yes!!!_ Shawn sends, then: _What time you landing? I’ll pick you up!! Bro!!_

It’s late in Mexico City but it’s even later in Toronto and Niall smiles to himself; Shawn’s nothing if not eager.

Niall thinks back to the last time they saw one another; Julia’s birthday party. Shawn was radiant as usual, outshining everyone as he always does, a sun among stars, impossible to look away from.

If they were the same age, Niall thinks, he knows he’d be jealous of the way Shawn makes people feel like they’re the most interesting person in the room, impossible to compete with his energy, his presence, his talent. Not to mention he’s objectively gorgeous, like so breathtakingly good-looking it’s almost comical. Niall’s seen Shawn make the straightest of male interviewers blush under his gaze. Niall can’t imagine what it’d be like to have that effect on people.

Shawn’s attention makes Niall a little weak at the knees too – he’s only human. But as it is, the few years Niall’s got on Shawn make for a little professional distance and it makes him feel responsible in some way. Shawn seems into it too, their dynamic. He’s always charmingly deferential, asking Niall’s opinion, seeking his approval and it makes Niall’s chest bloom with pride each time.

Not to mention, every few months–just when Niall thinks he might have forgotten–Shawn will send him some lyrics or a handful of chords and say _for our collab?_ and Niall’s always encouraging in a non-committal way, mostly sending back a handful of emojis or sometimes a suggestion. One time, Niall sent back a video of him playing a second verse he’d written but Shawn was so effusive, the look in his eyes so earnest, that Niall could hardly bear it. Niall doesn’t send videos anymore.

 _10-ish?_ Niall punches out _, I’ll call you when we touch down. Looking forward to seeing ya mate._

Niall smiles and locks his phone, the screen going black, and puts it to rest on the bedside table. He hears it chime but he forces himself not to pick it up; they can both afford to wait one more night.

**

Hat pushed down over his face and sunglasses on, Niall stands outside the arrivals gate for only a few minutes before Shawn rolls up in an enormous black SUV. All in all, the trip had been remarkably painless; one of the cabin crew had asked for an autograph for his niece, a couple of sisters from Calgary asked him for a selfie. Niall wonders if it’s because it’s because Canadians are particularly chill, or because they’re polite enough not to bother him just before Christmas, but either way it’s a nice.

“Buddy!” Shawn calls affectionately, arm draped out the window and Niall throws him a quick grin, darting to the car before they both get recognised. Niall’s travelling light, the bulk of his luggage sent well ahead of him and so he throws his duffle in the trunk before climbing into the front seat.

Shawn has the heat cranked because it’s fucking freezing outside, hovering around zero although the sun’s shining. He’s dressed casually but for the weather, hoodie and enormous padded coat making him look soft and warm, his cheeks flushed pink from the shock of cold air. He looks stupidly good, as always, eyes shiny and smile bright. Niall lowers his eyes shyly, taken aback; there’s always a short adjustment period when he comes face to face with Shawn for the first time in a while. It’s just the way things are.

Shawn jostles Niall’s thigh as they pull away from the curb, almost giddy with excitement ( _welcome to The Six, baby!)_ , and Niall can’t help but smile stupidly big because Shawn’s enthusiasm is contagious.

Shawn chatters away, practically bouncing out of his seat, asking about Niall’s shows in Mexico, how planning is coming along for his tour, when he’ll release his second single, and what his plans are for Christmas when he finally gets home.

“Yeah, sweet,” Shawn says, smiling warmly “It’s so good to be home.”

Niall doesn’t say anything, just nods, watching downtown Toronto coming into view. He’s exhausted and would give anything to just be back in Ireland already but it’s also nice getting to spend time with Shawn like this, with no pressure, no publicity.

“So,” Shawn says, breaking Niall out of his daydream, “what do you want to do?”

Niall’s been to Toronto, more than a few times, but he’s never had a guide before, much less a native. It’s all just killing time but there are worse ways to spend a day.

“I dunno man, whatever,” he says easily, “as long as I’m back at the airport by eight or so tomorrow, I’m all yours.”

Shawn’s smile doesn’t falter but in that moment, it’s like Niall can see the light in his eyes dim. Shawn looks back to the road, fingers tapping on the wheel. “Yeah? Cool,” then, “I know it’s pain in the ass but it’s really good to have you here, man.”

Niall doesn’t want to lie to him, pretend he’s thrilled to be here when he could be on his way home, but it’s only 24 hours. Niall throws him a sideways grin, “I mean, how much mischief can we really get up to in one day?” Niall cackles and Shawn seems to relax, his shoulders loosening.

Shawn stays strategically silent, just raising his eyebrows, and Niall shoves at his shoulder, rolling his eyes as they barrel towards downtown.

It’s a Sunday so the city is mostly quiet and they can walk the streets without too many problems. Snow lines the streets and Niall wishes he’d dressed warmer but he doesn’t dare complain about it because Shawn’s bounding down the street like an overgrown puppy, seemingly impervious to the cold. 

They get stopped for twenty minutes inside a Starbucks, a group of young women beyond ecstatic to see them together, and Niall struggles to sign a couple of autographs with frozen fingers but it’s not a big deal. Later, word must get out because they get papped coming out of a Foot Locker and Niall prays the photographer doesn’t capture the way his cheeks flush when Shawn crowds him and tugs him around the corner by the elbow. Still, it’s fine.

Shawn turns another corner and pushes open the door to an unassuming shop. As the door opens, Niall sees that it’s a quaint little music store, narrow but deep in the back, rows and rows of guitars propped up on the floor and hung on the walls. The musty-woody smell of resin fills his nose.

“I’ve been coming here for years,” Shawn says. “Bought my first guitar here.”

“Shawn!” a bearded man calls from the front desk and Shawn trots over to slap his hand.

Shawn introduces him to the owner. “Niall’s an awesome guitarist,” he says with no trace of sarcasm and the owner, Gerry, nods enthusiastically.

They wander around the shop, Niall’s fingers occasionally strumming over open strings as Shawn fawns over a black Rickenbacker.

“You gonna play me something?” Shawn asks, grinning, eyes bright and god, Niall thinks helplessly, it’s like everything that comes out of Shawn’s sounds like flirting. The butterflies in his stomach are going bezerk.

Niall raises a solitary eyebrow but doesn’t answer, trying to keep his cool.

“So,” Shawn starts, coy, “I wrote a song about you.”

Niall almost chokes on his own tongue as he struggles to reply. “Oh god, you didn’t.”

Shawn carries on earnestly despite Niall’s obvious discomfort, “Yeah man, I’m gonna release it as a b-side.”

Niall’s hands are shaking and his eyes must be saucers.

Shawn continues, unable to keep the corners of his mouth curling up in a smile, “Yeah it’s called ‘Mullingar Lad’, sung to the tune of ‘Gallway Girl’.” He bursts out laughing.

Niall feels like his stomach has dropped out of his arse but sighs with palpable relief. Shawn is in hysterics, the little shit.

“Ah, your face!”

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, oh my god,” Niall grumbles.

“Nah, I’m the best. You said so yourself!” Shawn is far too pleased with himself.

Niall wants to wring his neck.

“No but seriously, I’ve been working on something.” Shawn looks to the ground, suddenly shy, hunched over and hesitant. “About you and me.”

The silence hangs in the air and Niall doesn’t know if he should play it as another joke. Instead, he says, “Do you want to play it for me?”

Shawn looks Niall square in the eye and it’s totally disarming. Niall isn’t sure he wants to hear Shawn’s answer. Shawn looks away again and drifts over to a display of capos. “Maybe later.”

Gerry saves the day by interrupting them to show them this beautiful Seagull acoustic twelve-string ( _one hundred percent Canadian-made,_ Gerry beams) and by the time they exit the shop, Niall with an order slip in his pocket, Shawn’s more like himself.

After, Shawn makes them walk what feels like fifty blocks to this little bakery. Inside, it’s blissfully warm and a group of petite curly-haired ladies flood in from all sides. They must know him because they kiss Shawn on both cheeks, ask him about his singing as if it’s a mere pastime, shove boxes of treats into his hands. Finally, they seem to notice Niall standing in the corner just taking it all in. Shawn introduces him in some pretty charming, but broken, Portuguese. Niall’s pretty sure the ladies don’t recognise him because they don’t spend more than a few seconds scrutinizing him, quickly turning back to bask in Shawn’s light. Then, Niall can only watch as Shawn has grown women eating out of the palm of his hand.

The time passes quickly and Niall’s reassured that he’ll be back on the plane before he knows it, and in Mullingar by late Christmas Eve. It’s not that he’s not enjoying himself, it’s just that every so often, Shawn will throw him one of _those_ looks and Niall will stutter mid-sentence, feel his stomach lurch and his cheeks burn. Thankfully, Shawn doesn’t notice, or he’s used to having that effect on people, because he doesn’t call Niall out on it.

It’s getting seriously cold when Shawn walks them through Nathan Phillips Square to check out the Toronto sign, lit up for the season, and the Christmas tree. Shawn tugs his scarf up over his chin and pulls his beanie down over his forehead to avoid undue attention from the people milling about.

“We gonna get you out there?” he says, gesturing to the small ice skating rink filled with children who all seem remarkably skilled.

Niall cackles good-naturedly, “Oh, hell no. I like to keep my feet on dry land, thanks.”

Shawn just nods, an amused smile flickering across his lips. They wander the Christmas market but it looks like it’s about to close.

“Oh no,” Niall begins, his features twisted in anguish as they walk through the rows of stalls, stallholders smiling at them as they pack up, “now what will you get me for Christmas?”

Shawn doesn’t miss a beat. “You get the pleasure of my company… fucker.”

“Pathetic effort,” Niall teases, then, “So where to next, tour guide?” Niall scrubs his hands against the chill, still determined not to cave. Although, he’s pleased to notice even Shawn’s nose is a delightful shade of red by now.

Shawn crams his hands into his pockets and sways a little back on forth on his heels. “Well,” he starts with emphasis, “we don’t _have_ to– if you’d like to see more of the city, I mean– but–”

“Spit it out, Mendes,” Niall buts in. He’s ready to get out of the weather, whatever it is. He briefly wonders if Shawn will invite him back to his place and the thought makes his heart race. Whether that’d be good or bad, he’s not sure.

“Well,” Shawn grins, speaking deliberately slow, “there’s a Leafs game on in an hour. We could grab some food, and like… do that?”

It’s actually not a terrible idea at all; Niall’s impressed.

Shawn makes some phone calls and by the time they finish eating, the crowds are pouring into Scotiabank Arena.

“Do you do this often?” Niall asks as they’re led down through the bowels of the arena by a balding, eager-to-please guy from the arena management and a security guard so huge he has to duck to avoid hitting his head as they pass through the tunnels.

Shawn beams, clearly in his element. “As often as I can. Usually I come on my own and keep a low profile but sometimes it’s nice to have company.”

Their seats are excellent, along the red line and up a tier from the glass and while they attract a bit of attention from being together, it’s mainly spectators taking a sneaky picture or whispering to each other excitedly rather than approaching them directly.

“I could get used to this,” Niall says, stretching out his legs as he watches the teams warm up.

Hockey isn’t hard to follow and the game is a good one, tightly fought, and the Leafs win in overtime.

Afterwards, Shawn insists on joining the throng around the locker room. There’s media and although it’s not there for them, Niall tries to fade into the background among all the excitement and noise. Unfortunately, Shawn has other ideas.

It’s like he’s the team’s unofficial mascot, earning cheers and backslaps as he moves through the room and Niall tries to hang back, feeling very out of place, but Shawn pushes him forward and introduces him around. He feels stupid shaking hands with these hulking hockey players who all look the same brand of sweaty and shaggy but they’re all friendly– _any friend of Shawn’s_ – and Niall even signs a couple of autographs including one for an exuberant, overgrown rookie who tells him how he was a massive fan of One Direction ‘back in the day’ even though he doesn’t look a day over eighteen.

Niall’s cheeks hurt from smiling and by the time they clear out, it’s been over an hour since the game ended but Shawn’s still dragging his feet. Finally, when he can’t think of any more excuses to delay them, Shawn leads them back rink-side instead of the way they came in. The arena is totally empty now, ice freshly cut.

“What are we–” Niall starts before he sees them, two pairs of shiny new skates sat side by side next to the gate. “No fucking way, Mendes.”

Shawn bursts out laughing, the sound echoing out of the tunnel. “Care of the Toronto Maple Leafs. So, I know you said no before but I thought you might let me teach you.”

Niall’s staggered and a bit horrified. “ _Here?_ ”

Shawn shrugs, “No pressure.”

“This is a shitload of pressure!” Niall retorts, looking around, but Shawn’s already got his shoes off, easing one of the firm boots onto his foot.

To say the wide expanse of ice is intimidating would be an understatement. It’s stark, it’s cold, it’s wet and Niall doesn’t want to be a spoilsport but he really can’t fathom why Shawn would prefer this over going to the pub. Or literally anything else.

“Remind me why people like this again?” Niall hollers to Shawn as he grips onto the edge. He’s been ice skating a couple of times before but each time is as terrifying as the last and he never seems to improve. Worse, the hockey skates on his feet are a nightmare, cutting deeper than he’s used to, edges catching every few paces. Shawn throws him an amused smile as he skates past, a blast of cool air created in his wake.

“Hey, get back here!”

Shawn just cackles, pivoting to skate backwards, clearly having the time of his life. Niall might be unenthusiastic but watching Shawn move across the ice really is a sight to behold. He moves with ease, drawing power from his long legs, whipping up speed to breeze past Niall before arcing around again. Niall watches him as he skates elegant loops, the sound of his skates making fierce cuts into the ice. Niall’s no expert but Shawn basically looks like a pro. Niall swallows down on the mixture of feelings swirling in his gut; as if Shawn doesn’t already have enough going for him.

Finally, Shawn stops in front of Niall with a fearsome crunch, spraying a shower of snow over the bottom of Niall’s jeans and Niall would bend down to brush it off but he doesn’t trust himself to stay upright.

“Show off,” Niall accuses but Shawn just shakes the hair out of his eyes and scoots closer.

“C’mon, I’ll teach you.”

Niall knew this was coming and it’s not that he’s been dreading it, it’s just–

“Mate, how about I just watch you?” Niall tries to keep his voice light but he’s exhausted, and this is all a bit much to be honest.

“No chance,” Shawn says, grabbing Niall’s hands in his. “Let’s go Horan, quit stalling.” 

Niall makes to argue but Shawn’s so eager, his hands warm and his smile enticing and Niall can’t well say no. “Fine,” he mutters and Shawn’s expression softens, eyes twinkling, “but if I break something and I can’t tour, it’ll be your fault.”

Shawn tugs him a few paces away from the boards, _just to give them room_ , he says, and Niall’s legitimately scared he’s going to slip and brain himself, or worse, force Shawn to catch him. Fortunately, or rather _unfortunately_ , Shawn’s holding on tight, hands enveloping Niall’s.

“Alright,” Shawn starts, oblivious to the war going on inside Niall’s head, “so like, first up… hockey stance.”

Niall can’t pay attention to anything Shawn’s saying because Shawn is horribly distracting, standing close and moving his way around Niall’s body, correcting his posture and nattering endlessly about centres of gravity and weight transfer, and god, Niall just doesn’t care.

Niall gulps when Shawn lurks behind him and places his huge hands on Niall’s hips. Shawn smells good. “Ok but get lower, like _this_ ,” Shawn says softly as he pushes downwards and Niall’s knees buckle before he rights himself. “Perfect,” Shawn whispers in his ear and Niall thinks he might melt into a puddle straight onto the ice, “now hold it, _here_.” Shawn places a tentative palm over Niall’s diaphragm.

Niall sets his jaw and wriggles out of Shawn’s grasp. “Yep,” he replies, curt, “got it.”

Of course, he doesn’t have it, not even close.

His worst nightmare comes true when his feet go out from under him and his weight shifts backwards but Shawn’s there in an instant, a long arm draped around Niall’s back and a hand gripping his elbow, keeping him upright. “There you go. Gotta learn to keep your wheels under you, eh?” He chuckles when he says it but Niall can hear the tension hiding in his voice, as if he can tell Niall’s patience is wearing thin.

“C’mon, it’s easier if you move a little bit.”

Niall has no idea how that works but Shawn isn’t deterred. “Ok so, back in your stance and then, like, push forward a little with that foot,” he points, “yeah like from the ball of your foot.”

Niall makes it a few feet without stumbling and he’s quietly proud of himself, not that he wants to give Shawn the satisfaction, but he balks when Shawn increases the difficulty.

“I really don’t think I need to know this, mate,” Niall whines when Shawn demonstrates some sort of terrifying technical manoeuvre on one foot.

“You do,” Shawn insists, smiling. He’s still trying to maintain the charade they’re having fun. “Once you understand your edges, it’s easy.”

Niall wants to snap at him that it’s obviously _not_ bloody easy but he sighs and gives it one more try. Unfortunately for him, Shawn’s advice is sound and after a few more shaky tries, Shawn backs away a little to give Niall room.

“There you go!” Shawn calls happily, clapping his hands. It’s over-the-top praise for doing little more than staying on his feet and Niall’s still feeling embarrassed but he can’t help but thaw a little at Shawn’s enthusiasm.

“Ok but next time, we’re going golfing!” Niall shouts back angrily, losing his edge a little as he yells, but he doesn’t fall.

Shawn laughs gleefully, “Baby, I’m amazing at golf, you’ll see.”

Niall only grunts in response and rolls his eyes.

Shawn skates back in towards him and demos some sort of move where he crosses his feet, one over the other, something about turning while not losing speed, but Niall honestly stopped caring ages ago. This awkward little blot on an otherwise nice day has gone on far too long.

“I think that’s enough for me, Mendes. As nice as this has been,” Niall tries to look apologetic but he really just wants to get off the ice, back into his trainers and forget about this whole sorry thing.

“No, come on! We’re only getting started.” Shawn’s face falls and he scrambles wildly to stop Niall from trudging artlessly back towards the boards. “Just one more time, for me,” Shawn says and Niall can tell he’s trying but failing to keep the frustration out of his voice. Niall tugs but Shawn doesn’t let go.

Niall stops still, not that he can do much else, still waving his arms about to steady himself. “Why are you pushing this?”

Shawn scoffs but he doesn’t answer, just looks anywhere but at Niall. There’s something wavering about his expression that makes him look more hurt than angry and Niall just doesn’t get it. Shawn releases his grip and skates in little circles, unable to keep still.

“Why did you bring me here, eh?” Niall continues, “Watch me flail around, fall on me arse?” He feels his anger returning, irrationally so, but he can’t help but feel like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels on edge with Shawn, and although sometimes it’s good, right now, he just feels self-conscious, off-kilter.

Shawn shakes his head. “I get it, this was lame. I’m sorry for pushing you. I just–I wanted to do something nice, although obviously I misjudged it. Badly.” He motions weakly to the empty arena, rows and rows of seats rising up around them. “I’m trying to make a grand gesture here, man,” he says softly.

Niall furrows his brow, drawing a blank. “What?”

Shawn lets out a tense breath. Graceful as anything, he glides forward and it only takes an instant but before Niall can react, Shawn is pressed up against him, hot and firm in the refrigerated air of the rink. Shawn places gentle hands on Niall’s hips and leans down, a lock of hair falling artfully onto his forehead.

Niall can feel his ears turning pink and his heart is beating out of his chest but he’s caught in Shawn’s gaze, their eyes locked. Shawn moves slowly, deliberately, telegraphing his movements before placing a warm hand to Niall’s waist. “Stop me if…” Shawn says softly before trailing off.

Helpless to it, Niall feels his eyes flutter closed and he tilts his chin up.

Shawn’s lips are warm and dry and his kiss is heavenly soft, pressing gently only until he’s met with resistance. It only lasts a second but it feels like hours, and when Shawn finally pulls away, Niall doesn’t want to open his eyes. Eventually, when he does, Shawn looks sheepish, eyes lowered and cheeks flushed. “I know you think I’m just a kid, but–”

It takes Niall a long moment to form words. “Eh?” he splutters and Shawn looks like he wants to sink straight down into the ice. He purses his lips and looks sideways and skyward, anywhere but directly at Niall. God, he looks so vulnerable, so nervous that Niall wants to bundle him into his arms, only he can hardly move lest he risk falling onto his face. Anyway, Shawn’s already out of reach, raking tense fingers through his perfect bloody hair.

“Why now?” Niall falters, because _what the hell_. Shawn’s fidgety, gliding his feet in a sort of weird grapevine, one over the other backwards, rotating in little half-circles. He doesn’t look up. “Oi. Mendes!”

Shawn huffs a sigh and he looks pained, raising his arms plaintively before letting them fall to his sides. “I’m _sorry_ , ok? I just wanted to have five freakin’ minutes alone with you. It seems like every time I–”

Niall cuts him off, incredulous. “Wait–, _what_?”

Shawn just stares at him as if he’s particularly dense. “Are you for real right now?” He stares at Niall, eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer but Niall has none.

“Julia’s birthday party?” Shawn offers, speaking slowly as if he’s trying to jog Niall’s memory.

Niall doesn’t have to wrack his brain for the moment Shawn’s referring to. They were in the photobooth, the curtain drawn, the two of them crammed onto the tiny seat. The camera had gone off, flash after flash of them laughing, joking, smiling, until Shawn looped a long arm around Niall’s neck and kissed his cheek. _Flash_. Then, as if in slow‑motion, Shawn had drawn Niall close, their noses mere inches apart and Shawn had looked at him so intently that Niall had frozen, made some excuse about going to talk to Selena and bolted out of the booth. He hadn’t gone anywhere near Selena after, instead had hidden in the bathroom, sweat running down his back, mortified. Shawn had made him feel so exposed, so transparent, as if his naked admiration was etched all over his face. He’d comforted himself with the fact that Shawn made everybody feel like that, looked at everybody like that, unless–

“But…” he starts, but, “ _Me?_ ”

Shawn looks baffled, then snorts with laughter–actually _snorts–_ and the whole situation is so bizarre, so unexpected that all Niall can do is laugh too. Niall’s struck then with how good Shawn looks when he’s like this, sunny and soft. Less showman and more genuine. It’s lovely.

When their laughter dies down, Shawn smiles shyly and Niall feels a flush of warmth in his chest. Shawn might have the same effect on everybody but not everybody’s lucky enough to see him like this; playful, open, a little self-deprecating.

Shawn must feel encouraged because he moves in close again. When he speaks, his voice is low. “I just… I think about you all the time.” Then, a little disappointed, “You can’t tell me you didn’t know.”

Niall immediately wants to insist that _of course_ he didn’t bloody know but then he thinks back; the photobooth, the messages, the lyrics… Oh god, Shawn wrote a song about him. About _them_. It hits him like a bolt, the emotional equivalent of falling straight onto his arse. He’s been so stupid.

Shawn must sense Niall’s grappling with it all because he just plows on through. “You don’t know how amazing you are. You’re so confident, and you’re so funny, and your _voice_ –, fuck, Niall, I like you so much… at first I just looked up to you, and then I couldn’t believe it when you gave me the time of day, just some dumb kid from Canada… I just–, I wanted–”

Shawn must notice Niall just frozen in place because he stops talking. Niall’s still overwhelmed, distracted, thinking back to Shawn’s unwavering attention, his dedication, the fucking look in his eyes that never failed to make Niall’s legs turn to jelly. Before, Niall hadn’t been sure Shawn was even doing it on purpose, only in reality, Shawn thought he was being so obvious that there was no way Niall could have missed it. Well, he definitely did miss it.

Shawn still looks pained, patient while it all ticks over in Niall’s head. “I’m not reading this wrong, am I? Oh god. It’s just that, sometimes, I swear you look at me and… you feel it don’t you?”

Niall thinks back to those moments over the course of the day, and since they met really, when Shawn would look at him and make him feel like the only person in the room. Niall _knew_ , was _sure_ that Shawn made everyone feel like that but then now he thinks maybe not everybody was looking back at Shawn in exactly the same way, with heart-eyes visible from a mile off, apparently.

Ugh, it’s a lot to take in and he’s still stuck out on this bloody ice trying to deal with it. Shawn looms over him, still standing close, and Shawn’s mouth is drawn tight, jaw set. He doesn’t say any more but his eyes bore into Niall’s, desperately searching for some clue to Niall’s answer.

Niall takes pity on him and reaches a tentative hand to grip lightly at Shawn’s forearm; a lame attempt at a comforting gesture. Shawn doesn’t move a muscle though and maybe he doesn’t want to break the moment, force Niall to decide against him. Niall rakes his eyes over Shawn’s face, trying to find something there that will give him some clue about what to do next. Shawn still looks absurdly beautiful, cheeks pink from the cold and hair askew. Shawn visibly swallows and draws his bottom lip into his teeth, shy and unsure. Niall wants to hug him, spout some stupid platitudes about how it’s all going to be ok. But that’s not what Shawn wants, needs right now.

Niall takes a breath and looks closer. There’s undeniable tenderness in Shawn’s eyes, a softness that Niall can’t understand how he missed. But there’s also a fire flickering in them and suddenly Niall can keenly feel the way Shawn’s skin burns under his palm. Shawn exhales shakily and Niall’s gaze flits to Shawn’s mouth, lips full, warm and waiting. A realisation settles around him like a cloak; it feels like coming in from the cold.

“Kiss me again,” Niall says, voice barely a whisper.

Shawn’s hanging on his breath, inching closer until there’s barely any space between them. Shawn lifts both hands to cradle Niall’s face as he seals their lips together and it’s just as good as last time, filling Niall’s chest with heat. Without thinking, Niall traces his hand up Shawn’s arm to his neck, pulling Shawn towards him and deepening the kiss.

After a long moment, Niall pulls away, breathless. Shawn looks totally overcome, lips swollen and red, his breath ragged.

“I’m in,” Niall croaks, his fingers toying with the curls at Shawn’s nape.

Shawn pauses a beat and licks his lips, eyes dark and wanting, before crowding into Niall’s space, shoving Niall backward until they both slam into the boards. Shawn crashes their mouths together; his kiss is hot and firm and Niall gasps as Shawn licks inside.

They kiss and they kiss until Niall knees get too sore from standing on skates. “Maybe we should–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shawn pants, bending to press their foreheads together. Then, “Remind me when you have to be at the airport?” He reaches down to thread their fingers together.

“Not until tomorrow morning.”

Shawn hides his face beneath Niall’s jaw but Niall can feel the way his cheeks burn before he speaks. “You don’t have to, but–, I mean, we could… if you wanted.”

Niall pulls back to look Shawn in the eye and smiles, coy. “Don’t get shy on me now, Mendes, you’ve already gotten us this far.”

**

The following morning, Niall crawls out of bed when the sun is only barely peeking over the clouds, chill clinging to the windows. When he’s dressed, bags dropped by the door, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed and rakes his fingers through Shawn’s curls, rousing him gently.

“Mornin’,” Shawn greets with a sleepy smile as he opens his eyes, voice a bit hoarse from the night before. He’s still shirtless and Niall wants nothing more than to run a hand down his broad back to his waist although if he did, he doesn’t like his chances of getting to the airport in time.

“Hi Shawny. I’ve called a car.”

Shawn objects, attempting to push himself up but Niall shushes him. “It’s early, you sleep.”

Fifteen minutes later, Niall receives a text; the car’s downstairs. Shawn’s rolled onto his back and stretches his long arms above his head. His face is still soft with sleep, hair mussed and Niall’s eyes travel down his body to where the sheets pool at his hips. Shawn glows in the soft blue light of the morning and Niall swallows down a lump in his throat. Shawn will probably always make him weak at the knees but it feels different now; nervousness replaced with contentment, replaced with promise.

“I’ve gotta go, babe.” Niall strokes his cheek and Shawn turns to press his lips to Niall’s palm with a smile. It makes Niall’s heart swell.

Getting up off the bed is the hardest thing and when he looks back, Shawn has a small smile on his face but his eyes are closed. With a sigh, Niall gathers his things and reaches for the door.

“Don’t forget your skates,” Shawn’s sleep-muffled voice stops him.

Niall twists to give Shawn a final smile. “I won’t.”

THE END 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and indulging my extremely flimsy premise. Leave me a comment if you enjoyed it :) 
> 
> I am also on [tumblr](https://bitter-leaf.tumblr.com), come say hi if you like.


End file.
